ENOUGH

ENOUGH E-NOVEL

Welcome to the beginning of our journey together! My name is Seye Femi-Akintunde, and I’m here to share stories with you. This story happened during a youth program led by a pastor at my church. Let’s dive in!

The church was alive with the hum of voices and the faint notes of a solemn piano drifting through the air. The sun poured in through the stained-glass windows, painting the congregation in hues of crimson and gold. Applause rippled through the crowd like a wave, filling the space with warmth and excitement. 

Pastor Emmanuel stood at the pulpit, his face radiant with enthusiasm.  “Wow!” he exclaimed, his voice cutting through the ambiance. “Tijesunimi is really giving it to us hot-hot in the service today! What a blessing to have you as a member of our youth church.” 

The congregation responded with murmurs of agreement and scattered claps, their energy rising.  “You know,” Pastor Emmanuel continued, his tone earnest now, “this is a perfect example of how those who are about to graduate can be a blessing to the ones they’re leaving behind. What a gift from God to have Tijesunimi here with us!” 

He paused, letting his words sink in, then gestured broadly to the crowd. “Church, if you’re truly delighted to be here today, let’s give Jesus the praise He deserves!”  The room erupted into applause and joyful shouts, the collective spirit of the congregation swelling like a tide. 

The scene shifts thousands of miles away, to a modest apartment nestled in a quiet corner of the United Kingdom. Soft light filtered through the partially drawn curtains, casting long shadows on the wooden floor. The room was still, save for the distant hum of passing cars outside. 

Femi sat by the window, his gaze fixed on the grey skies stretching endlessly above. A steaming cup of tea rested on the table beside him, untouched. His thoughts drifted, wandering far from this quiet English town to the vibrant chaos of Nigeria. 

As the youth program unfolded in his homeland, Femi found himself lost in reflection. Memories and questions churned within him, each thought more poignant than the last. 

“What am I doing here?” he murmured to himself, his voice barely louder than a whisper. His reflection stared back at him in the glass, its expression as pensive as his own. 

The warmth and energy of Nigeria seemed a world away, but its pull was unmistakable. Somewhere, deep within, Femi felt the stirrings of a change he could not yet name. 

Femi sat in the dimly lit apartment, the silence pressing down on him like a heavy blanket. His shoulders slumped as he leaned back in his chair, staring blankly at the screen of his laptop. The year had barely begun, but it already felt like it was dragging him under. 

“Eight years in this country,” he said, shaking his head. “What have I achieved? Nothing. I struggled to complete my education, struggled to get a job, struggled to keep the job. I’ve taken so much money from Dad just to survive here. I’m supposed to be sending money home, not the other way around.”  The thought clawed at him, the weight of his father’s expectations crushing his spirit.  “Even this stupid UK accent I forced myself to learn—it’s all for nothing,” he muttered bitterly. “If he calls me again, I might as well end it. I’m just a waste to him.” 

The sharp trill of his phone broke the silence, jolting him out of his thoughts. Femi stared at the screen. *Dad.* His stomach tightened.  He said to himself, Femi just try your best to form this Uk accent, make he will appreciate you for once in a lfe time. Reluctantly, he answered. “Hello, Dad.” 

The voice on the other end was as sharp and unyielding as ever. “Hello, young man,” his father said, without warmth. 

“How are you this year?” the older man continued, the sarcasm practically dripping through the phone. 

Femi sighed. He speaks in UK accent “Dad, please, don’t start this time. I just can’t deal with it.” 

But his father was relentless. “Look at you, struggling to sound like them. That accent doesn’t even suit you—it’s bitter, just like your life.” 

“Dad, can you at least try to appreciate something about me?” 

“Oh, I do appreciate you,” his father said mockingly. “Eight years of my money wasted, and all you have to show for it is that fake accent.” 

“Come on, Dad,” Femi pleaded, his patience wearing thin. 

But the insults kept coming, each one cutting deeper than the last. Femi tried to fight back, tried to explain, but it was no use. 

Finally, he ended the call, his father’s dismissive laughter still ringing in his ears. Femi buried his face in his hands, his thoughts darker than ever. 

“There’s no hope,” he whispered. “No point in trying anymore.” 

His eyes flicked to the laptop screen. “What’s the fastest way to commit suicide?” he muttered to himself, his fingers hesitating over the keyboard. “Am I really this stupid?” 

He shook his head, berating himself, but still, he typed the words into the search bar. The results loaded, and his eyes landed on a YouTube thumbnail. A live show. 

A woman’s face filled the screen. Her beauty was striking, her presence captivating. “Wow,” he muttered, momentarily distracted. “God really does create beautiful people.” 

But then he stopped himself, shaking his head. “Femi, you’re about to kill yourself, and you’re here admiring a woman? What’s wrong with you?” 

Still, something about her compelled him. He clicked the video. Her voice was calm yet powerful, and for the first time in what felt like years, Femi felt a flicker of something he couldn’t quite name. 

“Maybe I just need a distraction,” he said softly, leaning forward as her words filled the room. 

And so, he listened.  The church fellowship hall buzzed with energy, the hum of anticipation blending with the melodic strains of the theme song playing softly in the background. Applause erupted as Pastor Emmanuel stepped forward, his voice warm and inviting. 

“If you’re watching this service online, whether in or outside the country,” he said, his tone enthusiastic, “please send in your comments and testimonies, and don’t forget to share the broadcast.”  The crowd responded with cheers and claps, the energy in the room palpable. 

“Before we invite our next guest,” Pastor Emmanuel continued, turning toward the stage, “I’d like to ask a question that’s been pressing on my heart. Sister Tijesunimi.” 

Tijesunimi stepped forward, her presence radiant and commanding. “Yes, sir?” 

“You mentioned something earlier about being intentional,” Pastor Emmanuel said. “I loved what you said. Can you elaborate, especially in the area of our spiritual lives?” 

“Thank you, sir,” she began, her voice steady and assured. “We all have to be intentional about our spiritual lives. Spiritual matters are no joke. Just as the devil is intentional about destroying lives at every opportunity, we must be intentional about standing firm until our last breath.” 

The audience grew silent, hanging onto her every word. 

“You see,” she continued, “this conversation about spiritual life doesn’t even apply to someone who hasn’t given their life to Christ. That’s the starting point. You need to first run and hide under God’s cover to escape the devil’s web. For some people, their lives are nothing more than a test for the devil’s agents.” 

Pastor Emmanuel raised a curious eyebrow. “What do you mean by that?” 

Tijesunimi smiled. “Let me explain with an example.” 

“Go ahead,” Pastor Emmanuel said, nodding. 

She leaned slightly forward, her eyes sparkling with confidence. “Sir, can you do ten push-ups?” 

Pastor Emmanuel laughed, the congregation chuckling along. “Yes, of course!” 

“And how do you know you still can?” she asked playfully. 

“Well,” he said, grinning, “I’ll try, and if I can do them effortlessly, I might even push further.” 

“Exactly!” she exclaimed. “That’s how the devil’s agents operate with some people’s lives. They test their strength by inflicting pain or chaos, just to see if they’re still effective in their wickedness.” 

“Hmmm,” Pastor Emmanuel muttered, his expression sobering. 

Tijesunimi pressed on. “The truth is, the devil himself is too busy with bigger matters. He doesn’t concern himself with the lives of unbelievers—they’re already in his grip. It’s the strong Christians he’s after.” 

Gasps rippled through the audience. 

“But the question is,” she said, her voice dropping slightly, “are you truly saved? Is your life hidden in Christ?” 

Far away in his apartment, Femi sat frozen before his screen, her words cutting through the numbness like a blade. 

“This lady speaks like she’s talking directly to me,” he murmured. 

Tijesunimi’s voice grew more impassioned. “You can’t let the devil’s agents toy with your life. For how long will you remain in that place? Jesus loves you! He wants you to be intentional about securing your life in Him.” 

Her voice faltered briefly, her eyes closing in prayer. Then she opened them, her gaze piercing. “God is telling me there’s someone watching online right now. A man. You’ve been running from pillar to post, facing disappointment after disappointment. Some of your friends have even gone to herbalists on your behalf, trying to help you get your life together. But I have news for you—what you’re looking for cannot be found in the devil’s domain. God wants to step into your life and take over.” 

Femi’s breath caught. *Could she be talking about me?* 

“God says your father told you earlier today that you are nothing,” Tijesunimi continued, her voice heavy with urgency. “You’ve believed the lie that your life is worthless. But I’m here to tell you—it is not over.” 

Femi’s heart pounded as her words pierced through his doubts. 

“You stumbled on this broadcast,” she said, a small smile breaking through her intensity. “Perhaps my beauty caught your attention. But let me tell you, brother, God can make your life more beautiful than what you see.” 

Femi swallowed hard, his eyes welling with tears. “Can He really make my life beautiful?” he whispered to himself. 

“Look in the mirror,” Tijesunimi said, her voice softening. “You’re a handsome man. Why would someone as handsome as you think of ending it all? God didn’t just create beautiful faces—He creates beautiful lives. And He’s ready to do the same for you.” 

Femi stared at the screen, a flicker of hope igniting within him. 

The cold kitchen floor felt like an extension of Femi’s heart—hard, lifeless, and unyielding. He stared at the knife on the counter, its gleaming edge reflecting the fluorescent light overhead. *This is it,* he thought. *This is the only solution I have left.* 

Across the ocean, in the church in Nigeria, Pastor Emmanuel’s voice thundered with urgency. “I arrest every demonic force filling this man’s heart with thoughts of suicide, in the name of Jesus!” His prayer carried a righteous fury, and the congregation joined in fervent agreement. 

Tijesunimi, standing by the pulpit, spoke with a passion that seemed to ripple through the airwaves. “God said the discussion you had with your father this morning brought you to this point,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion. “But you can’t stay here. You can’t stay in this darkness. All you need to do is open your heart to Jesus. He’s knocking at the door of your heart. Please, I’m begging you, don’t go to that kitchen. Picking up that knife is not the solution.” 

Femi froze. *How does she know?* 

Pastor Emmanuel’s voice boomed again, this time layered with spiritual authority. “I arrest every demonic force around your vicinity in the name of Jesus. Jesus, take over!” 

Tears streamed down Femi’s face as he shouted, “Can Jesus really help me? Can He really save me?” 

“Yes!” Tijesunimi’s voice rang out like a lifeline. “Say His name. Say Jesus!” 

“Jesus,” Femi whispered, then louder, “Jesus!” 

“Say it again!” Pastor Emmanuel urged. 

“Jesus!” Femi cried out, his voice raw and desperate. 

“He is the only one who can change your life,” Tijesunimi declared, her tone unwavering. “Brother, I love you. Please listen to me. Listen to Jesus. He is the Prince of Peace.” 

“Jesus!” Pastor Emmanuel echoed. 

“He is the one who calms the storm,” Tijesunimi continued. “Listen to me, Femi.” 

Femi’s breath hitched. She had said his name. 

“She just said my name,” he murmured, his body trembling. Then, louder, he shouted, “She just said my name!” 

“Femi,” Pastor Emmanuel called out, his voice steady. “Listen to the Word of God.” 

“Jesus loves you,” Tijesunimi said, her voice softening with tenderness. 

Femi collapsed to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. “Jesus, if you love me, save me. Please save me. I’m tired.” 

Pastor Emmanuel lifted his hands in prayer. “I hear in my spirit a man crying. Jesus, take control.” 

Tijesunimi’s voice was intense now, almost pleading. “Femi, you’re crying. That’s okay. Crying can wash away your sorrow, but you must take a further step.” 

“Jesus,” Pastor Emmanuel prayed again. 

“Drop that knife,” Tijesunimi said, her tone breaking with emotion. “Oh no, Femi. I told you not to go to the kitchen! The devil is right there with you, trying to make you end your life.” 

Femi looked at the knife, his hand trembling. Slowly, he dropped the knife, his heart pounding. 

“Thank you for dropping that knife,” Tijesunimi said, her relief palpable even through the screen. 

“Praise the Lord!” Pastor Emmanuel exclaimed. 

“Now, take one more step,” Tijesunimi urged gently. “Give your life to Jesus.” 

Femi nodded, tears still streaming down his face. “This is the only chance I have. Jesus, please save me.” 

“He will,” Tijesunimi assured him. “But you must give Him the chance. Say this prayer with me.” 

Femi repeated after her, his voice shaking with emotion. “Lord Jesus, I come to You today. I have reached the end of myself. I’ve been told that You care about my life. Please, take total control. I give my life to You. I submit to Your lordship.” 

“I accept You as my Lord and Savior,” Tijesunimi said, guiding him. 

“Take my life and make it new,” Femi continued. “Give my life meaning.” 

“Take the wheel of my life, Lord. Thank You for saving me,” Tijesunimi finished, her voice trembling with joy. 

“Thank You, Lord,” Femi whispered, the weight on his chest lifting for the first time in years. 

“Welcome to the family of Christ, Femi,” Tijesunimi said, her smile radiant. 

“Hallelujah!” Pastor Emmanuel proclaimed as the church erupted into cheers of joy. 

In that moment, Femi felt a peace he had never known. It wasn’t over—it was just the beginning. 

—

The story of Femi is a testament to what happens when God steps into a life that has reached its breaking point. At the moment Femi gave up in his heart, God took over. The same God who intervened in Femi’s darkest hour is interested in your life as well. You are not here by accident; you are listening, reading, or reflecting on this message because God has a purpose for you. This year, He wants to rewrite your story. 

Even when we were lost in sin, God’s love remained unwavering. He sent His Son to die on the cross for you and me. Right now, wherever you are—whether you’re sitting in a crowded room or alone in the stillness of your thoughts—you might be feeling the weight of struggle, the sting of pain, or the ache of disappointment. Perhaps you’ve reached the point where you’ve said, “Enough.” 

Enough of the struggle. 

Enough of the pain. 

Enough of the curses. 

Enough of the disappointments. 

You’ve tried everything—your own strength, the advice of friends, rituals that promised relief but delivered none. Yet, the more you’ve struggled to escape, the deeper you’ve sunk. 

But here’s the truth: your “enough” will never be enough until you realize that *Jesus is enough for you.* 

Friend, it doesn’t matter what you’ve done in the past. Those midnight rituals, those visits to places you thought could provide answers—let those things remain in the past. This is a new year, a fresh start. And while the year holds the promise of greatness, true greatness can only be achieved when Jesus is at the center. 

Jesus is calling you to let go of your burdens. Like the psalmist says in Psalm 131: 

*”Lord, my heart is not proud; my eyes are not haughty. I don’t concern myself with matters too great or too awesome for me to grasp. Instead, I have calmed and quieted myself, like a weaned child who no longer cries for its mother’s milk. Yes, like a weaned child is my soul within me. O Israel, put your hope in the Lord now and always.”* 

This is what Jesus wants for you: peace, calm, and hope. He wants you to know that He is enough. He is telling you not to fear, for He is your God. He will strengthen you, uphold you, and guide you through every storm with His righteous hand. 

So this year, in the face of every challenge, in the midst of every storm, focus on Him. Don’t look to the left or the right; don’t seek solutions in places that have failed you before. Instead, fix your gaze on Jesus. He is the one who can take your brokenness and turn it into beauty, your chaos into calm, and your struggles into triumph. 

If you’re truly ready to say “enough” to the negativity in your life, then take the next step. Surrender it all to Jesus. He is the only one who can make this year your best year yet. 

As you step into this new season, remember this: You can’t navigate the year successfully or free yourself from life’s battles without allowing Jesus to take control. He is enough—enough to save you, enough to strengthen you, enough to guide you.  Welcome to the best of your years. and may Jesus’ love and grace guide you every step of the way.  Happy New Year!!!

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Thank you for taking the time to read this Holy Spirit inspired novel Enough. Your interest and engagement with this story mean the world to us. Writing this novel was a journey of meditation on God’s word, reflection, and inspiration, and knowing that it has reached you is incredibly fulfilling. Your support inspires me to keep creating Holy Spirit filled stories that captivate the mind and stir the heart. We deeply appreciate your thoughts, feedback, and the moments you’ve spent with this work. Thank you for being a part of this journey. I look forward to sharing more stories with you in the future!

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